“You explain,” said Harry, helping himself to some more chocolate.

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned —

Hagrid's hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.

“Sirius — it's me…it's Peter…your friend…you wouldn't —”

“Everything under control, sir.”

“Because…” Lupin hesitated, “because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining.”

A feeling of great gloom in his stomach, Harry pulled the door open.

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